


Flash Burn

by Sapph



Series: If I run I'll never know [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Villains, M/M, Thallen Week 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:39:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4023667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapph/pseuds/Sapph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Uphold the law by day, break it by night,” Eddie laughs, “how very cliché.”</p>
<p>He sends the other man a quick glare because this isn't the place and crouches down on the concrete, angling his camera. </p>
<p>The body is lying exactly where they left it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flash Burn

**Author's Note:**

> Goes together with this gifset: http://sapphwrites.tumblr.com/post/120059342171/thallen-week-day-3-villains-au-uphold-the-law

He lets the other meta-human take him by surprise. _Stupid. Stupid._ Blood drips down the side of his face, warm and familiar—the pupil of his opponent's eye reflects a ghost.

 

(Time is a noose around his neck. He's too young to save his parents, too old to be adopted. Too quiet. He's always been too quiet.

 

But no one ever heard him scream.)

 

Death is a shadow, a swift stroke of a sword and a snarling mouth. There are demons in his skull, alive and pulsing; they wiggle their claws in the soft tissue of his lungs and stoke a fire his mouth—efficient little creatures.

 

(When he turns eighteen, he turns the world to ash; people become blast shadows, life becomes a flash burn.

 

His mother's hair is a scorch mark on his memory, red and bloody and nowhere near as beautiful as he once thought.

 

Fire courses through his veins.)

 

The meta-human collapses, a gurgling corpse on a pooling canvas of red. Blood drips from his killer's blade. _Soon_ , he thinks, as his limbs refuse to move; pins and needles and lightning grounded.

 

Time is torture, drawn out terror and crawling hope. Time is murder, slow and effortless.

 

The man reaches up, pulls off his mask and smiles, sunlight bursting through his colleague's teeth. _Holy fuck._

 

There are a million thoughts racing through his head, but the words he chokes past the smoke in his throat convey none of them.

 

“That's one ugly mask.”

 

–

 

“Uphold the law by day, break it by night,” Eddie laughs, “how very cliché.”

 

He sends the other man a quick glare because this isn't the place and crouches down on the concrete, angling his camera.

 

The body is lying exactly where they left it.

 

–

 

He presses his hands against the glass and sighs. The world outside is lit more brightly than his apartment, but he cannot bring himself to turn on the light.

 

Somewhere out there is a sword wielding maniac who knows his identity, who smiles like there is reason to. He's almost as troublesome as the co-worker who jokes and glances his way like they share some sort of deep connection.

 

His body hums with energy, but he can't run tonight.

 

He's afraid of who he might run to.

 

–

 

“Wanna rob a bank?” He only just manages not to collide with the other man, his gaze trained on the folder in his hand. They're in the middle of the precinct and he's beginning to think the other man wants to be caught.

 

“I'm busy,” Barry says, continuing his way to his lab. To his chagrin, Eddie falls into step beside him.

 

“I didn't even specify when.”

 

“I'm still busy,” he retorts. The papers are snatched from his hand and he allows the lightning to crackle across his eyeballs in irritation. It's an action that has sent many hardened criminals _running_ in the opposite direction...it's almost insulting, when he thinks about it.

 

The smug bastard just grins. “Nice.”

 

–

 

“That was quick,” Eddie remarks, as he smashes the security guard's head against the wall.

 

Barry swings the bag over his shoulder and rolls his eyes. “I'm fast.”

 

“No kidding,” the blond replies, his voice distorted by the mask, “you take all the fun out of it, Flash.”

 

He groans at the name. “You watch too much TV.”

 

“Only when you're on.” There's a thoughtful pause. “Do you think I'll get a name?”

 

The question doesn't even dignify a response. Barry just grabs him and runs, sprinting right past the sirens that never would have made it in time anyway.

 

(They never do.)

 

–

 

“You don't look like a criminal.”

 

Eddie cocks his head and twirls his blade effortlessly. Barry can't help but think it looks utterly ridiculous.

 

“Neither do you,” the man replies, apparently amused.

 

“I'm not.”

 

“Then what exactly do you think you are?” He sounds incredulous.

 

It's quite simple really. “A monster.”

 

–

 

He likes it. The realization gnaws at the walls of his stomach, sending tiny little shock waves through his abdomen. It's taken him a while to admit, and he will never do so out loud. The pressure in his chest increases with the shame.

 

He likes having a partner.

 

–

 

“Did you get rid of the evidence?” A familiar voice urges beneath his breath as he all but barges into his lab.

 

Barry looks up and frowns in confusion because the crime scene was clean. “There was none to get rid off.” There is a smirk on the other man's lips that should be infuriating, except it's not, so he makes sure to glare extra harshly. “But you knew that.”

 

“I'm just that good.”

 

He sighs and returns to his work, entering the data into his computer. “What do you want Thawne?”

 

“Dinner, now,” the man replies, brashly, almost too much so. He snaps his head up and narrows his eyes. Eddie's crooked grin doesn't match up with the way he's rubbing his neck and all in all he's acting pretty suspicious.

 

“Come on,” Eddie continues. “I'm hungry, you're starving.”

 

He swallows his instinctive reply to the assumption, mainly because it's true.“How would you know?”

 

“I know you,” the man says, and Barry wishes he didn't sound so sincere.

 

–

 

“Stop bleeding on my couch,” he hisses as he looks for the first aid kit.

 

Eddie grunts and rolls himself to the floor. A feat that mustn’t have been easy in his condition. Barry stills for a moment, puzzled. He scowls when the other man smiles his way, half slumped on the ground and pain pooling in the corners of his mouth.

 

“Stop bleeding on my carpet.”

 

There is panic stirring in chest that he hasn't felt in years. The man dying on the floor of his apartment looks more alive than anyone has in a long time.

 

It _scares_ him.

 

–

 

All he can see when he closes his eyes is crimson staining pale skin, such a contrast to the scarlet that covers his, even different from that which stains his hands. Who knew there were so many shades of red?

 

(Everything changes that night; there is no colour in the spectrum that can take away the taint of his vision.)

 

It's overwhelming, tilting him off balance, he can feel the fire licking at his heels. So he does what he does best, what has saved him so many times before—he runs.

 

Eddie's in no state to chase him anyway.

 

–

 

“You're avoiding me,” the subject of his thoughts says and he doesn't deny it. He wonders if all the bruises have healed beneath that mask, would know if they had if he'd been able to meet the man's searching gaze at the precinct.

 

He leaves behind a trail of lightning and every trace of warmth left in his body.

 

–

 

He doesn't expect the blade that slices through his calf, even though he should have. It's what he expected long ago. So why is he disappointed?

 

What does he care? If Eddie's of the 'with me or against me' mentality, Barry should just teach the man what it means to be his enemy.

 

But he doesn't get up from the knee he's fallen on, even though he's hurt worse, far worse.

 

“Stop running,” the man says. There is nothing soft about the distorted voice and yet he sounds almost mournful.

 

“I don't-” he breaks off, bitter laughter spilling past his lips. “I don't know how.” He sounds pathetic even to his own ears.

 

“Let me show you.”

 

None of it makes sense, but he nods anyway.

 

–

 

The tears come when he showers, scrubbing away at the grime only he can see. His eyes sting and the fire trashing in his ribcage somehow manages to boil his bones to liquid. He feels like a puppet with no strings, a feeling he fights with all his strength, because if he's wood or plastic, he won't survive—if he's anything but steel, he will crumble.

 

The tiles are cold against his skin and his head is filled with steam. He has no scars to betray his struggles.

 

Not anymore.

 

–

 

“Do you want to get some coffee?” Eddie spurs, his eyes so wide that Barry doesn't have the heart to say no.

 

If people knew what kind of puppy eyes lay behind the snarling mask, the man's reputation would be ruined.

 

He doesn't react when their hands brush as they walk and muses bitterly about his own hyper awareness, but when the hand moves to rest on the small of his back, he can't keep the rigidness from his frame or the question from his gaze.

 

Eddie's lips curl softly and Barry thinks about tracing that curve.

 

By the time they arrive at the coffee shop, fingers have curled around his hip, and when they take a seat he has to admit that he misses the warmth.

 

–

 

“And you willl never-” Whatever the guy was about to say next is cut off by the blade protruding from his throat.

 

“Hey,” Barry complains half-heartedly, “I was listening to his speech.”

 

“He was taking to long,” Eddie complains, wiping his sword on the man's jacket.

 

The corner of his mouth twitches upwards. “Now you know how it feels.”

 

–

 

“I don't think you're a monster,” Eddie declares suddenly and Barry has to wonder if the man thinks he's asleep. Gentle fingers run through his hair. _Deadly_ fingers, stroking the base of his neck. It shouldn't be this comfortable.

 

“It doesn't matter,” he mumbles into the man's thigh and the fingers still for a heartbeat before resuming their trajectory.

 

“It does, Barry.” His throat closes at the whisper of his name. “It matters to me.”


End file.
